


Complete

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Coming of Age [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Multiple Partners, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By DiamondPart 4 of the Coming of Age series. Frodo and Sam consummate their love.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Series: Coming of Age [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819885
Kudos: 3
Collections: Least Expected





	Complete

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: Sob! The hobbits are not mine; I kiss the feet of Tolkien for creating them. I do this for love, not money.  
> Story Notes: Sam's perspective. Year is 1413; Frodo is 45, Sam is 33, Merry is 31 and Pippin is 23.

* _Sam_ *

"I love you, Sam. I've always loved you this way. I was simply too afraid to show it. Do you forgive me?"

Sam felt his fear melt away, his shattered wits come together and realized he had been a fool again, trying to run away from his feelings as he had run from Mr. Frodo. Joy washed over him and suddenly nothing else mattered; never in his wildest imagination had he pictured his dear master saying such words to him. His eyes went to those ruby lips that had just kissed him, to a tear-streaked face positively glowing in the moonlight, and he just had to draw him in for another kiss, take away any hurt he had just caused by his impulsive actions. "I love you too, sir, I love you, my dear master. I don't never want to be with anyone else again."

He brushed gently against Frodo's trembling lips, reveling in the feel of them, then with more boldness than he'd thought himself capable of, claimed them in a ravishing kiss that set him a aflame down to his furry toes. He gripped Frodo around the waist and pressed into him and rejoiced to find he wasn't the only one suffering a fullness in the groin, moaning as the hard swell in Frodo's trousers rubbed against his own, setting off dancing lights in his head like a swarm of fireflies.

Frodo grabbed his hips and thrust in, as his tongue lapped at Sam's with a hunger Sam would never have attributed to him--close, had he called Mr. Baggins? Not once his barriers were down! Frodo was making his own soft mewling sounds, sounds that only served to stoke the flames in Sam--he thought distractedly that they'd best get a move into the smial before they set the brush on fire.

Frodo seemed to reach the same conclusion; with a look of regret he broke off the kiss and cupped Sam's cheek with his palm. "I think we should continue this in my room--that is, if you'd like to . . . " He still looked so unsure of himself Sam saw for the first time how it must have been for him, always pushing his feelings down, never letting anything out--why, curse his own dull brain, if he could have just guessed sooner he could have spared him much pain! As it was, he could only do his best to show Frodo how much the offer meant.

He took Frodo's hand and kissed each fingertip, blushing at his audacity but smiling just the same. "I'd very much like that, Mr. Frodo. We'd also best be checkin' in on Mr. Brandybuck and Mr. Took--I'm half at fault there and I know Merry'll be wanting words with me."

A look of hurt crossed Frodo's face and Sam felt he could have tore his tongue out to stop spouting things so bluntly--here Mr. Frodo had loved him all this time and he had gone and played around with his young cousin. He still didn't know quite how it had all happened--the lad just had a way of getting you to do things. And he still couldn't say he regretted it. Not for Pip's sake, anyway.

"I hate to ask this, but between you and Pip . . . was it curiosity? Or something deeper? I understand curiosity, Sam--I'm more experienced than you'd guess. I know exactly how I want to make love to you."

Sam flushed a deep shade of red as the meaning of the words sank in--so Frodo had tried something similar before? Did he want to know with whom? He decided it didn't matter--the words "make love to you" were made of pure sunshine, warming him to his roots. "It were just comfort, sir. Both of us--he was sad, and I was sad too, thinkin' I'd never be able to have you. I guess he chose me as a friend he could trust his secret to." He wondered what Frodo meant "exactly how"--was there more than what Pip and him had done? He wished he knew a bit more, but next to some fondling and kisses he hadn't done much with the lasses, and well Pip--that had been a first for both of them.

Frodo threw an arm around his shoulder, all fear and worry melting from his face and led him back up to the open door and the dark confines of the smial--Sam realized Pip and he had never lit any lamps in their haste. They took a moment to do so, listening to the sounds of quiet talk from Pip's room--angry talk, some of it, but no shouting at least, then Frodo went to softly knock at the door and peek his head in, and Sam sidled up close to him, dreading the look on Merry's face but knowing he had to face up to his actions.

"Sorry to interrupt--I've got Sam here. Are things . . . all right?" Frodo asked. From around his shoulders Sam could see Pip was wearing a robe now, at least, but if anything he looked more upset than ever, and Merry looked ready to cry, seated on the edge of the bed furthest from Pip as if afraid to go closer.

It probably wasn't the right time to go in there, but Sam had to say at least a couple things, just to set himself straight. "Mr. Merry, I can't undo what's been done--" he caught Pippin looking over at him, hurt and fear in his eyes "--and I wouldn't want to, anyhow--it was very special, but I do have to apologize for any hurt I've caused _you_ \--I don't know your feelings on this but I can plain well see you're upset. Please don't be too angry with Pippin. He was afraid and I was afraid and now I can see it's much better to face up to your fears--the results just might surprise you." He couldn't help but smile, feeling Frodo's presence beside him, warming him like a fine brandy. He waited to see if Merry would begin calling him out to defend his cousin's virtue or curse him as a thief, but Merry seemed beyond any anger--oh, now Sam saw it--he blamed himself wholeheartedly--he was wallowing in self hatred. Sam glanced at Frodo and saw he was studying Merry just as deeply, silently penetrating him with those intense blue eyes of his, and probably seeing the same thing. Should they stay, or let the two cousins work things out for themselves?

"Thank you, Sam. I--I don't hold you at fault for anything . . . I know Pip . . . I know how it can be with him." Merry said in perhaps the most subdued voice Sam had ever heard come from him. His heart ached in sympathy, but it was Frodo who said the words he wanted to utter.

"Do you want us here? Perhaps the four of us--"

"No," Merry said immediately, though Pip looked ready to agree and invite them in. Pip bit his lip instead, and a little shudder went through his slight frame, looking suspiciously like a sob. At Sam's words "it was special", there had come a light of happiness in his eyes, but that was buried once more now. He looked simply miserable.

"Good night, then. We'll be in my room-- _together_ ," Frodo said with emphasis, slipping an arm around Sam's waist, so there was no way they could mistake their new relationship. Sam tried to impart the gratitude he felt to Pippin--he didn't know if he would ever have had the courage to act on his feelings, but thanks to the little Took's impulsiveness he now was experiencing the most wondrous feelings he could possibly have dreamt of. He hoped fiercely that such a thing would come to Pippin too, somehow. It seemed wrong to say anything now, in front of Merry, but he would definitely tell Pippin later just how grateful he was.

Merry and Pippin nodded, Pippin giving just the slightest of smiles at Sam, then Sam backed away so Frodo could close the door, wishing he felt more sure about how things would go for poor Pip. With a soft click, Frodo shut the door and regarded Sam with a mixed look of resignation and sorrow which was swiftly being replaced by excitement and coy mischief. "Sam," he said in a low voice, probably too low for Merry and Pip to hear, "I have to confess I wasn't quite ready for you tonight. Can you wait for me in my room? I'll only be a moment--I have to fetch something . . . just in case . . . " He _grinned_ \--since Bilbo's departure, it had become so rare for him to grin so, like a boy just in his tweens. Sam wondered what he could be up to.

Unlike Pippin, he trusted Frodo completely. "Sure, sir--I'll just turn down the bed for you . . . " for us, he added silently to himself, thrilling at the notion. What would his da think to learn of his doings this night, or Rosie? Sam didn't care. His Frodo loved him. Nothing could happen now to shake his joy in that.

It was only a moment before Frodo returned. After arranging the blankets and pillows to his liking, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting. If he thought his stomach had gone all aflutter when Frodo looked at him in the Green Dragon, it was positively doing flip flops now, like flapjacks on a hot griddle. From Pip's room he could hear nothing--he hoped that was a good sign.

Sam jumped as Frodo opened the door, trying not to blush and failing dismally as the smoldering eyes of his dear beloved fell upon him. Frodo was carrying a small jar of something--he too blushed as he placed it in the little drawer of his bedside table, keeping it out of sight.

Sam wondered if he should ask or not--this was all too new to him. He decided he didn't care. All that mattered right now was the fact Frodo was here, sitting down next him with a shy smile on his face, as if he too couldn't quite believe this was happening. Sam reached up a hand to take a single dark brown curl and tuck it behind his delicate pointed ear. Frodo chuckled, sending a tremor through him.

"I don't think I've ever been so nervous," Frodo confessed, but his hands and lips were sure as they drew Sam into an embrace and a feathery light kiss which set spark to all the places that had been cooling off in the concern for Merry and Pippin. Sam bit back a moan, his fingers clutching at Frodo's nape. He reached his other hand to pull Frodo closer, delighting in the small form--slight, perhaps, but surprisingly strong.

Frodo drew back for just a second to regard him, his brows drawn together in a most puzzled and wondrous expression. Sam could feel his disbelief--it almost looked like he though he didn't deserve him! Well he'd put a stop to such notions. Sam drew him in and took charge, molding his lips to Frodo's and gently running his fingers over his face to smooth out any lines of worry or fear. "I've got you, Mr. Frodo; I still can't believe it's true, but here we are, sure as day--or night, the case being. I've wanted you so long . . . " he couldn't believe he was saying such things, revealing his most inner wishes and still half afraid Frodo would change his mind and send him from his room at any moment, but as he returned to the kiss Frodo clutched at him and suddenly their tongues were entwining and it was as before--Sam was blending into the brilliance of his master's passion, reveling in power he never thought he'd wield.

Frodo pushed Sam onto his back, climbing on top of him to lay full length against him, pressing into him, his hands roaming everywhere to unlace ties, undo buttons and slide over bare skin--so soft, his hands, not like Sam's at all. Sam tried to reciprocate but Frodo wouldn't let him, and as he slowly ground his hips in, Sam was lost in the sensations of hardness rubbing hardness and of Frodo's soft little pants in his ear; he turned and captured his mouth for another deep kiss.

Before he quite knew it, he realized he was unclothed, and now Frodo was tearing at his own, fumbling to unbutton his waistcoat as they continued to kiss. Sam brushed aside Frodo's little fingers and set to work on the gilded buttons, marveling at the feel of clothing against bare skin, of the way Frodo's half lidded eyes seemed to drink him in, of the soft flickering light of the bedside candle and the smell of candlewax and floor rushes, and some flower scent--lavender, that had to be. Every sense was heightened; he removed the waistcoat and the braces and then was pulling off the shirt and sighing at the expanse of milky skin before him and two large dark nipples already stiffened into little peaks; he leaned down and kissed softly, sucking, and Frodo threw his head back and cried out, clutching at him.

"Oh Sam! Yes," he murmured, and Sam, emboldened, set to teasing both nipples with callused fingers, tongue, and just a bit of teeth, rejoicing in every shudder and arching movement that told him he was pleasing dear Mr. Frodo. There was still the matter of his trousers, though; Sam wanted to see _all_ of him and try out that little trick Pippin had taught him. Nibbling on Frodo's neck to satisfy his hunger for the moment, he set to unlacing and soon had the trousers down in a little puddle at the foot of the bed.

Of course, that part of Frodo was as beautiful as the rest of him; long and slender and flushed; he placed a tentative hand around it and rubbed, grinning as Frodo sucked in a breath, his eyes rolling back. His own cock was so hard it hurt; he rumbled in need as Frodo grasped him as well, pulling along the length and flicking a thumb across the wide head and the little slit there. "Wait, sir," he gasped; this was going too fast--he was feeling too much-- "I want to . . . " he captured Frodo's hands and pinned it in his larger ones, moving down Frodo's body to nuzzle his abdomen with his cheek, trail his curls along the sharp edge of Frodo's hip, moving his lips down to where thighs met breathing in his scent--ah, the source of the lavender was here--he must bathe in sweet smelling oils, Sam thought, then he traced Frodo's shaft up from the base with his tongue, nearly coming himself at the shout of pleasure Frodo released.

He took Frodo into his mouth and Frodo moaned, "Oh Sam, how did you . . . " the rest of whatever he was going to say was lost as he began shuddering, thrashing his head from side to side as Sam sucked and licked, trying to duplicate the incredible experience Pip had shown him--oh but this was so much better, so utterly incredible; every response Frodo made at his pleasuring seemed to be echoed in his own body; he felt he might come at any moment. He held on, though, as Frodo let go and began pumping hot salty fluid down his throat, crying out so loud Sam was sure Merry and Pip would now know _exactly_ what they were doing. He released Frodo only as he began to go soft and laid back beside him to watch the flush of pleasure and full relaxation wash over his face--what a gift, to be able to give pleasure like that to one so great and deserving. Sam felt aglow with happiness; his own ache hardly troubled him.

But shortly Frodo opened his eyes and regarded his state. "Sam--that was--the most incredible . . . I have never felt such pleasure. You are a wonder. What would you like? I know of something I would like you to experience, but only if you're ready and want to--oh, I'm so selfish. I shouldn't even--" he broke off, two spots of color on his high cheekbones making him look so dear, Sam wanted to pleasure him all over again.

"What sir:? If you want it, I'm sure I'll enjoy it too."

"Well, what you do with a lass like Rosie . . . " Frodo said, stammering, sitting up to run the heel of his palms over Sam's chest and abdomen, caressing him with his eyes as well to where it became difficult for Sam to follow his words.

"Only kissed Rosie, nothing more," he confessed in a whisper.

Frodo blinked. "And Pippin?"

Sam grinned proudly. "Well we did what I did to you just now."

That coy mischief was back in Frodo's eyes. "And that's all?"

Sam recalled his words, "making love," frowning. Oh he wished he knew more about this! "Seemed enough. There's more?"

Frodo's grin was uncharacteristically wicked--he suddenly resembled Merry. "You've never . . . . oh Sam, my precious Sam. You do know what's involved in making love to a lass? What I'd like--if you would--is to have you inside me. Here," he guided Sam's hand and pressed one finger against a place Sam would never have considered for lovemaking.

Sam's mouth fell open; heat seemed to flood him anew. "Wha--what do I do?"

Frodo was growing restless, moving against his hand and shuddering--he was hard once again. "You're sure--I don't want to push you. I love you Sam--I haven't loved anyone like I love you."

"Oh yes, sir--just guide me. I want to please you--that would give me the greatest pleasure."

Frodo leapt away from him and he jumped, wondering if he had said something wrong, but Frodo was only pulling out that little bottle from the drawer and pressing it into his hand, moving close to whisper in his ear, "To ease the passage--inside me, and over you. I'll take care of you, if you will me." He opened the stopper and poured the oil onto his hand--hah, sweet almond with a hint of lavender--the bathing oil! Then he rubbed Sam and the sensation of that warm hand and the oil was almost a torture, it was so sweet. He poured a little in his own hand, over his finger and gingerly touched the blunt tip of his finger at Frodo's entrance.

He suddenly realized what he was doing. "Will this hurt you?" It seemed impossible that it wouldn't. This was going to please his Frodo?

"Only at first--then it's wonderful, I can assure you. There's a little spot inside--touch me there. You'll see," Frodo laid on his back with his legs open, so relaxed and eager it was impossible to feel fear for him--he looked so _happy_. He reached down a hand to coax Sam to press in, and Sam did so, watching his face closely for any signs that he should stop. Deeper, deeper--Frodo had closed his eyes, a tiny wrinkle forming between his brows, but he seemed all right. All the way in now, sliding around to coat with oil, and he found it--like a little seed--he stroked it and Frodo shivered and arched, nodding his head.

"Another finger, Sam--you're big for a hobbit, you know," he said breathlessly, and Sam complied, getting the idea now--digging for planting, that was the way to think of it. His fingers weren't exactly small either--he saw pain flash across Frodo's face, but as he had said it was only a moment, then Frodo was pushing his hand out and pulling him close, his hands on Sam's cock to place it against him, ready and open.

Sam raised himself above, tight with need. "Please open your eyes, sir. Tell me if I hurt you."

Frodo did so, eyes shining, filling him with so much love it was a wonder he didn't burst. "Make love to me, Sam," he said in a strong, clear voice, commanding. Sam nodded, and thrust forward, slowly, gently, though his body was now urging him to move faster, harder. He fought to keep his own eyes open. So incredibly tight, and yet yielding, slowly . . . another flash of pain. He stopped, panting, himself at the point of pain to not be continuing. Frodo's eyes cleared again, urging him. He sank himself in to the hilt and this time he had to stop or ruin the experience by ending too quickly. He was inside. Inside Frodo. Never would he feel so complete again.

Frodo shuddered, moving against him, his hands coming to grip his hips. "Sam," he pleaded, and Sam began moving, smoothly at first, gently rocking into him and exulting in the feel of his hot tight sheath, then faster, and harder as his body demanded, until there was no controlling the passion; he bucked and slammed as Frodo grabbed at his bottom and drove him on, his cries a testament to both their mounting climaxes--Sam was heaving like a bellows, sweat trickling down his back--oh it was too much; he would die with the pleasure. Then he was coming, and against his belly he felt Frodo come as well pulling him in as deep as he could go, his slender legs locked around him. They collapsed together, Sam's head resting on Frodo's breast as he came down slowly, gasping for air. It was several moments before either of them spoke, quietly listening to the heart beats hammering in their chests and the sound of something interesting going on in the next room . . .

"I think Merry's finally giving in to his wishes," Frodo said, cradling Sam's head to him.

Sam grinned. "I wish the best of luck to them."

Frodo chuckled, the sound so warm coming from an ear to his chest. "Happy Birthday, Sam."

Sam couldn't stop grinning. "Guess I'm truly of age now."

* * *


End file.
